


The Match Game

by carolinecrane



Category: My Bodyguard (1980)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-02-26
Updated: 2012-02-26
Packaged: 2017-10-31 19:09:02
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 824
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/347427
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/carolinecrane/pseuds/carolinecrane
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Clifford doesn't always know as much as he thinks he does.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Match Game

“I think Shelley likes you.”

Clifford appears out of nowhere, just like he does every day after school -- and after most of the classes they don’t share -- talking like he’s picking up a conversation they started hours ago. Only Ricky doesn’t remember talking about Shelley or anybody else today, and he doesn’t really want to talk about her now.

Ricky doesn’t answer. Instead he grunts and swings his locker shut, letting the metal clang as he turns on his heel and heads down the hall. Clifford’s right behind him, taking two steps for each of Ricky’s and breathing a little heavier by the time they reach the front door. But he’s still talking, like he really thinks Ricky cares what Shelley thinks about anything. Or maybe _Clifford_ cares what Shelley thinks, and that’s something else Ricky doesn’t really want to think about.

“Seriously, she talked about you all through math, I swear. Ever since you stood up to Mike, all she ever talks about is how you’re way less scary than she thought.”

‘Less scary’ doesn’t exactly sound like true love to Ricky, but even if Shelley was drawing hearts around his name or something, Ricky still wouldn’t want to talk about it.

“What’s the matter?” Clifford asks, still hurrying to keep up with Ricky as he strides down the sidewalk away from the school. “You like Shelley, right?”

Ricky shrugs and pauses long enough to reach into his pocket for his cigarettes. “She’s all right.”

For a second Clifford just watches him, eyes kind of narrow like he’s trying to figure something out. Ricky ignores him and focuses on lighting his smoke, then he takes a long drag and lets the nicotine settle the thrumming in his nerves.

“Let me guess, she’s not pretty enough for you. You probably like Leilani, huh.” Clifford lets out a low whistle and glances around like maybe he’s afraid Shelley’s going to hear them or something, then he leans a little closer and drops his voice to a whisper. “She’s kind of out of our league, don’t you think? I mean, don’t get me wrong, _I_ think you’re great.”

The truth is that Ricky’s not even sure which one Leilani is. He thinks she might be the stuck-up blond in their English class, and if that’s who Clifford’s talking about, he’s definitely got it all wrong. 

“That’s it, isn’t it? You have a thing for Leilani.”

“I don’t like blonds,” Ricky says, taking another drag off his cigarette before he tosses it into the gutter. He doesn’t look at Clifford as he turns into the park, so he doesn’t notice right away when Clifford stops walking. They’re right at the edge of the park, not far enough in for the trees to block out the sidewalk, but not right in the line of traffic either. 

“You don’t?” Clifford says, and Ricky glances over his shoulder to find Clifford standing in the middle of the path, looking at him like he just said ‘I don’t like girls’ or something. Which he’s pretty sure he didn’t, but it’s hard to tell when Clifford’s staring like he’s never seen Ricky before.

A couple kids whip around the corner on their bikes and head straight for them, and when Clifford doesn’t move Ricky rolls his eyes and grabs him by the arm to pull him out of the way. 

“So what’s the big deal?” he says, half to himself, but he lets his hand rest on Clifford’s arm for just a second longer than he needs to. 

“Nothing, it’s just...so redheads, then?” Clifford says, and when he grins Ricky can’t quite hide his own smile. 

“If you’re asking if I’ve got a thing for Carson, the answer’s no.”

Clifford laughs and lets Ricky pull him back onto the path, following the bikes toward the lake where their friends are probably waiting at their usual table. For awhile neither of them says anything, and Ricky knows he could just let it drop and Clifford would let him. That’s what he should do, and that’s what he tells himself even while he’s opening his mouth to say, “So you think I’m great, huh?”

He steals a glance in Clifford’s direction, watches the way Clifford smiles and kind of ducks his head. Shy, for the first time ever, maybe, then Clifford’s shoulder bumps Ricky’s bicep and he grins up at Ricky. “Yeah, you’re all right. Shelley could do worse.”

“Not interested,” Ricky says, but before Clifford gets a chance to ask who he _is_ interested in, they reach the table where Carson and Shelley and that dark-haired friend of hers are sitting. Shelley grins up at him, but Ricky ignores her and shoves Carson over to make room for him and Clifford on the bench.

Clifford sits down next to him, and if he presses a little closer than usual Ricky figures it probably doesn’t mean anything. But then again, maybe it does.


End file.
